Catarrh and Catharsis
... stalactites hung like dystopian snot from a statue
her brain was frozen and formed ice in her mind
a lacuna without inlet or outlet arrested in time
mind’s skates tied up in bundles of snowflakes
gloves off for defeat with all speed set in arrest
not even her black woollen hat showed any signs
of thawing heart-warming emotions for comfort
empty speech bubbles covered her scraped tongue
where a mouth-watering waterfall should pursue
a pick axe with nothing left to dissect or construct
dangled from a callous corpus callosum in pain
unable to connect right left wrong or left to correct
this was not what searching tranquillity had promised
in contrast transcendence wept at chilly flood gates
a voice that had so much to part with in a landscape
of permanent layers of verglas onto vaporous rime
she wished for some slime or yuck glopping goo
but permafrost refused a glimpse of impermanence
a fool thought it funny to stick a carrot in her nostril
helpless she could not leave the vegetative state of affairs
clung to a string of crystal beads at pearly gates of no return
this is a lie I am Pinocchio at the threshold of truth
a metaphor unable to break the spell of apocalypse
unfulfilled amphora and vessel that can’t even leak
incontinence at the pointless orifice of evacuation
without one drop of hope for cataracts to dissolve
a lonely icebreaker with nothing left to crack open
where a firm skull should harbour my residual flow
when a polar bear embraced her unbalanced spectre
shared his white furry coat under a mantle of darkness
shales of introjection floated away from the solar eclipse
which had sheltered her from a charcoaled manic cauldron
touching middle grounds in between scorching euphoria
and lifeless apathy just long enough to remember that she had
not taken her medication and the self-help manual was useless
sometimes catharsis has to wait for one small lucid moment
when a beak meets a beaker and cascades start from a dribble
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